Author's Note: This is...a super long chapter. I think the average length from here on out is about this, though, so sorry. Next chapter is going to be a headache...but, unique. Maybe. Perhaps. Otherwise, I'm sorry that this chapter is pretty dull, but it is rather...different from the game, so I hope it is entertaining somewhat! Please review and enjoy! And thank you to everyone who has read this for so long, it's really encouraging!
Act XIII: The Brecilian Forest
She held up her hand, halting the party before they could disturb the earth, and examined the spot of dirt before her. Then she eyed the bush, ran her fingers across the leaves, and smelled them. The strong taint of leather clung to them, along with a drop of dried blood, and the earth bore the tell-tale imprint of a boot. They had found a Dalish game trail, one a clan's hunters had used recently. Revan unconsciously smiled at their good fortune; they had only been searching for two days, and already they had discovered a clan.
"Well?" Rose whispered next to her. "Are we close?"
"Very," Revan responded in a normal voice, then stood and brushed off her knees, "because this was too obvious a clue, and they are watching us right now."
Right on cue, a barrage of hunters stepped from the foliage and shadows, their arrows knocked and aimed at their chests. Rose, Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne immediately put their hands up to show they meant no harm, reluctantly followed by Sten, Zevran, and Morrigan. Only Revan kept her hands down, calmly observing the elves as they stared back.
Finally, one elf, a female with the eyes of a mother bear, strode forward a few steps, though she kept her bow drawn at all times. She eyed Revan, obviously the one in charge at the moment, before speaking.
"Turn back now, outsiders. The Dalish have camped in this place. I suggest you go elsewhere, and quickly," her eyes narrowed as she spoke the words in a low growl.
"Hamin," Revan intoned the Dalish word for 'relax'. Then, continuing in the elvish language, she said, "We come as friends, and only wish to speak with your Keeper."
While the rest of her face remained impassive and hard, her eyes grew larger at hearing her speak their language. Testing her, the elf continued in the same, "Who are you, how is it you know our language, and how did you find us?"
"I am a friend to the Dalish," Revan insisted, "to the Sabrae clan. We are Grey Wardens, and these are our allies, and we seek the assistance of the clans."
"Mi'harel…" the hunter lowered her bow, and her fellows lowered their bows also. "We have heard tales of you from passing hunters, but we did not think…my apologies. I will take you to our Keeper immediately." Then, she switched to Ferelden. "Follow me."
Rose exchanged nervous glances with the rest of the party, but followed Revan's cool lead and followed the elves. They led the party through the forest and into a clearing, revealing a large, prosperous clan of Dalish, but it was not the Sabrae clan, her clan. The elves that were about turned their heads to observe the newcomers warily before turning back to their respective tasks. The hunter led them to a larger aravel, painted and decorated similarly to Marethari's. Outside, an old, male mage was instructing his First how to mix complex poultices, but he was mostly focused on his own work. He turned as he noticed their approach and left off, a scowl emphasized by his tattoos marking his face.
Casting an annoyed glance at them all, he said, "Hmm…I see we have guests. Who are these strangers, Mithra? I have precious little patience and less time to spend on outsiders today."
"These are Grey Wardens and their allies, and they wish to speak with the clan. I thought it best that I brought them to you," she said, unsure if she should state Revan's identity. Revan wondered why she was so hesitant to introduce her.
"That was wise of you," the Keeper softened considerably. "Ma serannas, Mithra; you may return to your post."
The hunter crossed her arms and bowed, saying, "Ma nuvenin, Keeper."
As she left, the Keeper directed his attention to them. "Now, allow me to introduce myself. I am Zathrian, the keeper of this clan, its guide and preserver of our ancient lore. And you are?"
Revan subtly gestured to Rose, and she bowed similar to Mithra. "I am Rose Cousland, and these are my friends and allies. It is a pleasure to meet you, Keeper Zathrian."
"Manners? From a shemlin? Interesting…" Zathrian ran his eyes across their odd little band, and the scowl lessened. "What might be your mission here? Have you come to spread news of the Blight? I have already sensed the corruption spreading in the south. The existence of the Blight is not news to me. I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to move. Sadly, as you can see, we do not," he gestured to their stationary aravel.
"Yes, it seems like you have had your own troubles. What are the odds?" Alistair commented sarcastically.
"I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago," Zathrian continued. "Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. This will require some…explanation. Follow me."
The Keeper strode past his First, who watched them go with large, intelligent eyes, and toward an area set up nearby, furnished with over a dozen cots, all filled with injured. However, Revan could tell through her second sight that it was more than just injuries; there was something spreading through their bodies, like the darkspawn corruption, but more similar to the energies of the Fade. The majority of those there were hunters, the main fighting force of the Dalish. Their eyes were white, as if their humanity was vanishing, and their skin had a ghastly greyish tinge. Every elf had some sort of gash or laceration on their body, some worse than others.
Zathrian stopped by one of the cots and began explaining. "My clan came to the Brecilian Forest one month ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Ferelden. We are always wary of the dangers in the forest, but we did not expect the werewolves would be lying in wait for us. They…ambushed us, and though we drove the beasts back, much damage was done. Many of our warriors lie dying as we speak."
"Is there no way to help them?" Rose asked innocently. But Revan already knew the answer from her training with Marethari.
The Keeper paused to consider. "The affliction is a curse that runs rampant in their blood, bringing great agony and then ultimately either death or a transformation into something monstrous. The only thing that could help them must come from the source of the curse itself, and that…that would be no trivial task to retrieve."
Rose smiled. "We're good at non-trivial tasks."
Zathrian scanned her with a grin, the vallaslin, his tattoos, making his appearance more sinister. Revan got the bad feeling that he was somehow using them. "Within the Brecilian Forest dwells a great wolf—we call him Witherfang. It was within him that the curse originated, and through his blood that it has been spread. If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse, but this task has proven too dangerous for us. I sent some hunters into the forest a week ago, but they have not returned. I cannot risk any more of my clan."
"Of course we will do this," Revan said hastily, her sense of loyalty to the Dalish overriding her sense of judgment. "Anything for the clan."
"I must warn you," Zathrian cautioned them, "that more than werewolves lurk in the Brecilian Forest. It has a history full of carnage and murder, you see. Where there is so much death, the Veil separating the spirit realm from our own world becomes thin, allowing spirits to possess things living or dead. But if you can indeed help…then I wish you luck."
Zathrian left them and returned to his aravel to continue making poultices to ease the hunters' suffering and slow the spread of the corruption. The white eyes of the hunters reminded Revan too much of Lyna when she had succumbed to the taint. Rose looked at the group, and they gathered closer together so that they could talk and not be overheard.
"So, kill the king of werewolves. Sounds…wonderful," Morrigan said sarcastically.
"Do we even need these weak elves?" Sten wondered, his tone not in the least patronizing. He merely was stating what he considered fact. "I cannot imagine that they would be of help on the battlefield if their first instinct is to flee from danger."
Revan scowled at him. "The darkspawn are not just any 'danger', Sten. The Keeper knows that only the Grey Wardens are capable of stopping the Blight. Protecting the clan is a much higher priority, and if their immediate safety can be resolved by fleeing, that is what they will do."
He frowned, but the Qunari did not protest more. Meanwhile, Alistair had begun, saying, "Ah, another hopeless task. Well, at least it seems straightforward enough. Go into the forest, kill this Witherfang, grab its heart, and come back. Shouldn't be too difficult…right?"
"What bothers me," Zevran interjected, "is that werewolves are supposed to be little more than beasts, yes? So how did they manage to ambush a clan?"
"Does it matter?" Revan responded vehemently. "They are a threat to the clan, and as such, they need to be dealt with. It is my responsibility as a Dalish to do this. So, regardless of what we decide, I am staying."
"Of course we are staying!" Rose gripped her arm. "But I agree with Zevran; that is an interesting point. What do you know about the werewolves, Dragonheart?"
Revan frowned in thought, then recounted what she had learned from Paivel all those months ago. There wasn't much; they were beasts, some created by Witherfang, others by a rupture in the Fade. The taint spread through their bite, and they were violent, unthinking beasts who attacked anything that even remotely provoked them. Those that were bitten either died or became a beast themselves. The party grimaced at the images. She also mentioned some of the other dangers lurking in the forest. She had learned much about the Brecilian Forest from Marethari, Merrill, and Paivel. The Fade was the thinnest here from all the carnage, as Zathrian had mentioned. As such, the werewolves, creatures created by the corruption of the Fade, were stronger here. So were mages. And demons. The further one went into the forest, the more potent the power was. That had been part of the reason Revan had spent so much time in its depths when she had been recovering. Unfortunately, this also came with the added risk of possessed beasts that could easily kill the unwary. She described some of the possible abominations they could encounter, causing Wynne to shift uncomfortably.
"Well…" Rose cleared her throat after the Jedi had finished. "I think we should find out as much about the area of the Brecilian Forest we are in right now. As well as how the werewolves could have ambushed the Dalish."
"So, split up, then," Leliana added. "I will speak with the storyteller, perhaps we can exchange stories."
"I will go with you," Wynne volunteered.
"And I suppose I will speak with some of the hunters to see what they know about the 'ambush'," Morrigan sighed.
With a gesture of her head, Revan nodded to Sten to go with her. Also sighing, he consented to accompany the witch. Revan volunteered herself and Zevran to talk with the First and some of the other hunters, and Rose and Alistair, exchanging a small smile with each other, agreed to go speak with the clan craftsman. The rest of the party noticed the secret smile between them and glanced at each other in recognition of the sign. Then, with a nod between Rose and Revan, the party split into their respective pairs and went to gather information.
Revan walked amiably with the elf to where the clan's First was now administering poultices to some of the victims. She looked up at their arrival with large, glistening eyes that reminded the Jedi of a doe. The First rose to her feet and crossed her arm across her chest in formal greeting and uttered the formal elven greeting. Revan responded in kind as she formally bowed deeper.
"I am Lanaya, our clan's First, though I suppose you already knew that. Our hunter, Mithra, tells me you are the one they call Mi'harel," she examined the Jedi with her large eyes.
"She would be correct," Revan said in the elven language, to make her point. Then, switching to Ferelden, she added, "I did not know if this knowledge would upset your clan, so I did not make it known. I apologize if this offends you."
Lanaya tilted her head, surprised at Revan's explanation. "You know much about us. And yes, you were right not to tell our Keeper. He has…difficulty trusting shemlins, and the news that a clan had adopted one as their own incited much anger from him. I am more…lenient towards shemlins, perhaps because I was not born in the clan."
Now it was Revan's turn to be surprised. To earn the position of First was difficult enough, especially in a clan this size. And, most Firsts, like Merrill, were direct descendants of the higher classes in Arlathan, the elven homeland. Earning the position of First without such an advantage was almost impossible.
"That is remarkable. You must be proud of your accomplishments, First Lanaya, for they are great indeed," Revan gave her another bow in respect. She, in turn, gave Revan a small smile in gratitude.
"I am. The ceremony where Zathrian anointed me as his First was the proudest day of my life," Lanaya said almost wistfully. "The clan has placed great trust in me, as you know."
"I assume Zathrian found you?" the Jedi asked.
Lanaya looked away slightly. "Yes, when I was very young. My parents were servants to a human merchant whose caravans plied the southern routes. One day, bandits killed him and my parents…" She went on to tell the rest of her sad story, of how she was the only survivor, forced to "serve" the bandits for several years. When the bandits killed a Dalish scout, Zathrian sought revenge, and tracked the bandits for a month before finding them. Lanaya described that he "fell on the bandits like a terror." When she spoke of it, her face held a sort of violent reverence for the Keeper. Despite her profound pity and empathy for the girl, Revan found the expression slightly disturbing. The tale was one Revan had heard before many times, especially when she had been a Jedi, and when she had been in the Sabrae clan. However, despite this, she managed to notice how highly the clan regarded Zathrian. In her own clan, Keeper Marethari was loved and respected, but here, Zathrian was almost worshiped.
Revan asked the First to tell her about Zathrian, but Lanaya seemed reluctant to speak of him, saying instead that all she could tell her was what Zathrian himself could answer. Unsatisfied, Revan pleaded, and finally Lanaya began talking.
Apparently, Zathrian had once had children, a son and a daughter. His son had been murdered by a tribe of humans, and his daughter had been raped. When she discovered that she was pregnant, she committed suicide. This was the reason Zathrian despised humans as much as he did, and why he had been so infuriated to hear that one had been made Dalish. That had been many centuries ago, however. Lanaya issued bravely that Zathrian may have discovered how the ancient elves had achieved immortality. A spark of hope lit in Revan; to discover an ancient secret of the elves of Arlathan, especially something like immortality, was worthy of idyllic reverence. The dim notion that a secret like that was almost impossible to find was drowned out by the hope that it was true. Then a thought entered her head: the only ones she knew that could attain immortal life were those incredibly gifted with the Force, those that fed off of the life of others. What was Zathrian using to keep himself alive?
After Lanaya had finished speaking of Zathrian, and answering both the questions from Revan and Zevran about the werewolves, she turned back to Revan with an inquisitive look in her expressive eyes.
"Tell me, Mi'harel, I am sure that there were Dalish in your clan that suffered as much as I did at the hands of shemlin. How did they come to accept you?"
At this, Zevran adopted a fascinated expression as well. Revan looked between the two briefly, then began recounting her tale of how she had slayed a dragon, and they had found her unconscious near the corpse of the beast. They had brought her back to the camp, healed her, and she had, while recovering, learned their ways. She helped with the chores, assisted the Keeper and her First, and did minor things to help the clan. Eventually, when she had enough strength, she became a hunter, and killed a nest of dragonlings and drakes that were threatening the clan. Then, slightly abashed, Revan told how she turned back a mob of humans that had come to kill the clan.
"Ah…" Lanaya processed the story, a little surprised. After a pause, she added, "You are an…unusual shem, I must admit. And now, a Grey Warden…perhaps you will be the beginning of a new era of peace between the shemlin and the elves."
Revan smiled at her. "Though I would be honored, it will not be I who will responsible for peace. It will be the Keepers and people like Rose and Alistair."
"The other Grey Wardens?" Revan nodded. "Why do you say that?"
"They will be the leaders of the world, especially if we survive this Blight," she explained. "They will be hailed as heroes. Their word will be echoed around the world."
Lanaya pondered this, then bid the two a warm goodbye before returning to work. Revan and Zevran left to speak with some of the others in the camp.
"You know," Zevran said as they walked between the many aravels, "my mother was Dalish, which was always a point of fascination for me. The only thing of hers that I possessed was a pair of gloves. They were of Dalish make, I knew that much, and beautiful. I had to keep them hidden, of course, as we were not allowed such things. Eventually they were discovered, and I never saw them again."
"You're life sounds like one horrible tragedy after another," Revan muttered.
"Oh, it isn't so bad. There has been plenty of joy. To tell the truth, it is because I expected nothing more. Still, even I eventually thought that it would be better for me if I ran off to join the famous Dalish when one of their clans drew near Antiva City. Naturally, the reality did not live up to all the fantasies I had constructed as a boy, staring at those gloves. But such is life."
"Why not? Why did you not join them?"
Zevran shrugged. "They were not as…welcoming as I would have expected them to be. The hunters took one look at my dirty face and hissed that I was a…what was it? Oh, a len'alas lath'din, which I assume is not something pleasant."
"'Dirty child no one loves'," Revan translated with a grimace.
"Ah, yes, thank you for that, I had always wondered what insult they had thrown at me," Zevran responded sarcastically. "Well, I discovered their dislike for city elves, and how their life was even more difficult than life as a Crow—I mean, they had to actually hunt for their food! And no alcohol! What kind of life is that, with no alcohol? At least with the Crows, they provided the food and liquor…and other pleasures. A gilded cage, but at least my position in the Crows was quite clear."
"You encountered one of the older clans, I suppose," Revan said sadly. "They are not as accepting as other clans, like mine. That is…unfortunate."
"Not really," Zevran responded cheerfully. "I mean, if I had joined them, I would never have gotten the contract to kill you and the lovely Rose, and I would never have seen your gorgeous face."
Revan raised an eyebrow, causing Zevran to laugh at her expression. "'Gorgeous,' is it? Your flattery is appreciated, but I think you may have forgotten the scars. And besides, I have a man of my own."
The assassin stopped in his tracks and looked at her in shock. "Wait, what?"
Sighing, Revan elaborated, "I had a man, a lover, in my old land. We lived together for a while, but then I left and crashed on…in Thedas."
"So, you are married?"
She opened her mouth to respond "yes", but then she realized that she and Carth had never actually issued vows. "We were…no, I did not marry him, though we loved each other…he was a man who had been hurt before, and we both knew that I would only hurt him more. I think he was still wary that I would betray him or leave him or become evil or die. Which, I suppose I did betray him, in the end."
Zevran's aghast expression softened to one of compassion. Then, he asked, "Do you still love him?"
"Yes," Revan said automatically. She loved Carth more than the stars, the clan, more than life itself. She would have gladly died for him. And, in a way, by leaving him back on Telos, she was dying for him and his safety.
"What was his name?"
"Carth. Carth Onasi."
"What was he like?"
"Kind, gentle, stubborn as hell," Revan smiled. "He was strong, with a cool head and a strong moral compass. And he had a great sense of humor. In a way, he was a bit like Alistair, except he was not naïve, and he was bitter from losing his first wife and son in the war. It was hard for him to forgive, but his love overcame his anger."
Zevran stared at her with an inscrutable expression, then he flashed her a sad smile. "He sounds wonderful."
"Time softens memories," Revan spouted. "Come on, let's finish our interrogation. I want to make sure Morrigan and Sten haven't ripped each other's throats out."
The elf laughed in amusement, and rejoined her side. However, Revan noticed a mournful tinge lurking just behind his cheerful veneer.
After rejoining the party, they had discovered that, indeed, the werewolves had ambushed the clan with unnatural intelligence. They had also found that this area of the forest was full of sylvans, trees that were possessed by spirits of the Fade. Some could be benevolent, and some, aggressive. Apparently, there was a magical barrier at one point in the forest where the hunters assumed the werewolves' hideout was, but they could not get past it. The forest also shifted in this area, but the hunters insisted it only did if it felt it was threatened.
Wynne looked especially happy when they had regrouped, though she offered no explanation. Morrigan and Sten, meanwhile, had in a way formed a bond between them from their shared view on the importance of strength. Despite this, however, Sten immediately took his place beside Revan when he saw her again. Rose and Alistair kept glancing goofily at each other when they thought the others were not paying attention. The attraction between the two was becoming obvious.
The party decided that, in order to solve the issue of the barrier, they would split into two groups and split up. As soon as one group found something to dispel the barrier, they would send out a magical signal to alert the other group, and together, they would go to the barrier. Thus, Rose, Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana departed, leaving Revan as leader over Zevran, Sten, and Morrigan. The three of them looked up to her, especially since she knew the forest. So, they departed into the Brecilian Forest in search of something to dispel the magic barrier.
The forest was just like Revan remembered it, even here. The magical currents swirled around her not so much like a hurricane, but like a gentle breeze. The trees towered over them, the sunlight filtered in thinly, casting everything in a yellowish tint, and the air smelled like pine needles and soil and moss. As soon as she was immersed in it, Revan realized how much she had missed the forest. It was so peaceful here, so invigorating. She and Morrigan attuned themselves to the magical currents, and, hoping that they would encounter a spirit, one of the kinder beings in the Fade, instead of a demon.
For a while, they wandered, until they came to a small clearing. A Dalish hunter was lying in a pool of his own blood by a tree, having tried to pull himself to safety. He was still alive, but barely, she could tell through her second sight. Revan rushed over to his side, turning him onto his back, and noticed that his eyes were still clear. He groaned, and tried to move, but failed.
"What? Who…wh-who comes?" the hunter managed to say.
"Relax, you are safe," Revan intoned in the elven language. "You are badly wounded. What happened?"
"We were sent to find Witherfang…bring his heart…attacked…" the hunter fell unconscious.
The blood in Revan's temple began to pulse as her anger rose. These werewolves needed to be destroyed before they hurt any more of her people. That was when she noticed the vague light in her second sight that was slowly enclosing them: werewolves. She screamed a warning before the first beast appeared at the edge of the clearing. It growled at them, its yellow eyes flashing and its posture suggesting that it was preparing to attack. It opened its mouth. Revan didn't give it the chance to attack, as she lunged at it with all the ferocity she possessed, her previous injuries forgotten. The beast, despite being surprised, was nimble, and barely managed to dodge her attack. She whipped her swords in an arc as the werewolf took a swipe at her with its long claws. Other werewolves were joining the battle, but her friends were proving capable of holding their own. She plunged her sword into the creature's chest and spun around to face her next attacker. First, she cut off one of its paws, then, using the Force to prevent it from retaliating as she recovered her swing, she slit its throat. Another appeared, and she cut at its leg. The werewolf dodged, but stumbled. As Revan raised her blades to pierce its chest, a searing pain ripped through her shoulder. With a yell, she spun, cutting off the head of the beast that had ambushed her from behind, then turned back to the other as it raked her chest. Its claws did not cut as deep as they would have, for Revan managed to arch away enough to avoid the brunt of the attack. Then, she sliced at its waist, and disemboweled it. She moved on, slaying another two beasts before the small pack was slaughtered. She observed the carnage around her as her magical leather armor repaired itself. Then, breathing hard and sweating, Revan returned to the hunter, who had not been injured further in the fight. She ordered Sten to help her move the hunter, and they escorted him back to the Dalish camp.
Mithra found them near the camp's clearing. "Andaran atishan, Mi'harel. Our scouts saw you approaching with the body of one of our hunters."
"Yes. He was ambushed by the foul beasts. We found him alive, luckily," Revan growled.
The hunter examined her compatriot and checked his pulse. "Ah, Deygan. He is wounded, but I believe he will live. Ma serannas. Let us take him to the Keeper, and quickly."
Mithra and another hunter took hold of the unconscious hunter's arms and slipped them from the shoulders of Revan and Sten. She winced as his hand brushed her wounded shoulder, irritating the wound despite the leather protecting it. Zevran noticed the wince, and an expression of worry crossed his face. Once Deygan was situated between Mithra and another hunter, they returned to their camp, and Revan led them back into the woods to continue looking for something to bypass the barrier with.
Revan was irritated at being forced to stop their quest. She wanted to barge into the werewolves' lair and slaughter them all. Then the threat would be ended, and they could deal with the real issue of the Blight. Stopping to care for a hunter was a waste of precious time. So, she strode ahead of the others, restless, her pulse still elevated. Bah-dah-dah-dum, it echoed in her veins, in her temples, in her neck, in her chest. And, the forest was warmer than usual, adding to her annoyance. She wiped off the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she pushed aside a fern.
Then, Zevran was by her side, having jogged to catch up to her. He stared at her face.
"What is it?" she snapped at him. He recoiled, stunned by her harsh reply. Instantly, Revan regretted her temper. She took a breath to calm herself.
"Are you all right? You do not look well," he asked sincerely.
Revan dismissed his concern. "I'm fine. Worry about yourself; the forest has other surprises for us."
He was silent for a moment before asking, "Are you wounded?"
"I'm fine."
"No you are not. Are you wounded?" he asked again.
"Nothing serious. I'm fine," she repeated.
"Let me look at it. I am quite skilled with injuries, surprisingly," he offered. "Must come with constantly inflicting them, I suppose."
"We don't have time," she responded curtly.
With a scowl, Zevran swung his leg around too quickly for her to respond, and she found herself face-down on the ground. She spit out a clump of dirt and, assuming that he was going to kill her, snarled, "Go on! Finish your contract, len'alas lath'din!"
"Wow, that hurts," Zevran put a knee in the small of her back to keep her down, actually sounding slightly offended. "And I have been nothing but a friend to you."
At that moment, Morrigan and Sten caught up to them. They did not say a word, but Revan assumed they wore puzzled expressions.
"Something is wrong. And she refuses to let me help her. Sten, I need you to keep her pinned to the ground so she can't move. Morrigan, she's going to struggle, I need you to prevent her from using magic."
"Why would we do that?" Morrigan wondered skeptically.
"Let me show you," Zevran said. Revan heard the scrape of a dagger being drawn from its sheath, so she tried bucking her back to remove his knee from her back. If she was going to die, she wanted to fight back. They would not survive her fury regardless. If only she could get the puny elf off her back…
Then, a larger, stronger hand pushed her down; Sten was holding her down. Sten, who had watched her back countless times, was betraying her. She tried summoning the Force to counteract his strength, but she found herself sapped of energy. Morrigan, it seemed, had also betrayed her. She released a guttural scream. The knife came down, but it did not touch her flesh. Instead, it cut away the leather over her wounded shoulder. Revan felt the leather being pried away. A hiss of alarm followed.
"That isn't..." Morrigan began with concern.
"I'm afraid it is," Zevran replied wearily. He sighed. "Ah, Revan, forgive me. I should have realized sooner."
"What do we do, then?" Sten asked gruffly. "We cannot leave her behind. Do we take her back to the elves?"
"What are you all talking about?" Revan inquired, panic suddenly gripping her.
She saw Zevran's form stand and walk to her head. He lowered himself so he was looking at her at eye level. "You…you were bitten, by a werewolf. The infection has passed into you. I'm sorry, Revan."
Her anger dissipated, leaving her feeling hollow. She closed her eyes and swallowed. "That would explain the sweating. And the change in temperament. And please, do not apologize, I should be apologizing for snapping at you. I am…"
"Not yourself," Zevran finished for her, giving her a sad smile in understanding. "It is fine. But, I agree with Sten, we should take you back to camp. They can treat you, slow the infection until we retrieve the heart—"
"No," Revan said with quiet force. Zevran immediately went silent. "I will not sit idly. While I am still human, I will help and fight. And, I would rather die with a sword in hand than on a cot."
Zevran raised his head, exchanging glances, with the others, before making eye contact with her again. "We will be keeping an eye on you. Several, actually."
A cool sensation passed through her shoulder as Morrigan applied a salve to the wound, then the feeling of the leather mending itself. Then, the pressure lifted off her back as Sten released her. Zevran bounced to his feet and offered a hand up, which she took. Her body was hurting again, the pain of the infection reinflaming the pain from the Tower. She swayed unsteadily, but she refused help from her friends to stabilize her. What alarmed her was the rate at which the infection was spreading: usually, from what Marethari had told her, the infection took a day to manifest itself, and then, over the course of two to three days, it would worsen until the victim transformed into a werewolf permanently, if they did not perish first. Her infection, however, had rapidly progressed. She did not know how much time she had before her demise; all the more reason to stay away from the clan, in case she should turn rabid unexpectedly.
Having regained her balance, she looked them each in the eye before saying, "When I turn into a beast, if I do not perish first, I need you all to kill me."
"But, if we retrieve the heart—" Zevran suggested.
She shook her head. "I might cause untold damage if I am near something or someone. I do not want to be cured, just to find that I have killed one of you, or an innocent. I do not want to spend the rest of my life wondering if I did that, either. And…I am not entirely sure that the heart would cure me."
The three of them exchanged glances, but they did not argue with her further, instead looking at her with unexpected worry. "There is one way we might slow the change…" Morrigan began.
"Yes?" Zevran asked eagerly.
"The curse changes a person from human to beast, correct? So we have to prevent her from losing her humanity."
Sten looked to Revan, then back to Morrigan. "And how would you suggest doing that?"
Morrigan looked uncertain. "I do not know, I merely made a suggestion. I suppose invoking a memory or strong emotion might help."
Zevran looked directly at Revan, and she could see what he was thinking: Carth. He cleared his throat and announced without looking away, "I will take care of that. Now, let's continue this, yes? The quicker we find a key to the barrier, the quicker we can heal Revan."
There were no complaints against this.
"Ask a question and you'll get a question, but give an answer and you'll receive the same! Oh, I do love to trade!" the jittery hermit exclaimed.
Revan glowered at him, feeling her anger build again in frustration. After her little incident, they had encountered a group of sylvans which they had been forced to cut down and then burn. However, they had also found one that had been possessed by a spirit of intelligence and wisdom, and it had asked them, in return for safe passage through the forest, to find the thief that had stolen his acorn. Morrigan had turned into a dog in order to follow the scent, and thus they had found the hermit, camped up in a small ruin, ranting and raving. It was obvious that he was a mage, and Revan would have gladly killed him, but she knew that he most likely had protected the acorn, so the only way to retrieve it was to play this game with him.
She sighed. "Would you like to ask me a question?"
"I think it is your turn to ask, is it not?" the hermit said. His frantic eyes darted between her and whatever imaginary things were lurking around them.
"Fine: do you have the Grand Oak's acorn?" she said bluntly.
"Ahhhhh….suddenly it all becomes clear," the hermit pronounced, looking as if he had just discovered a great secret. "You here, the talking tree there, it all makes sense now. As a matter of fact, yes, I do have that tree's acorn. I stole it and it was easy! Silly tree should have locked it up tighter! If you want it, you'll have to trade me for it. And nothing from that silly tree…no leaves or branches or anything. But that's all I have to say about that. An answer for an answer. Now it's my turn. Hmmm…what will be the first? Oh, yes! What is your name?"
"Winifred," she lied easily.
"A-ha! So you claim!" the hermit's mad eyes lit up. "They sent you, didn't they? But you're too tricky, and you're trying to fool me! Well, I'm onto you! Just so you know. But it is your turn to ask now. Ask! Ask away! I dare you!"
Revan was growing very frustrated, and she could feel the curse spreading as the urge to kill the hermit grew stronger. She forced herself to ask, "Can I trade you for the acorn?"
"Oho! And what do you have to trade for the acorn?" he wondered like a merchant, greed taking the place of madness for the moment.
She didn't have time for this stupid game. She drew her sword with a flash and held it against the hermit's throat. His eyes changed immediately to fright, and he raised his hands nonthreateningly.
"How about your life?" she suggested.
"But that's not fair! I already have that!" he complained.
She pressed the blade closer. "Not for long."
"Nope! No deal! You can't have it!" he said, his madness preventing him from realizing that Revan was serious.
But she needed that acorn. And her blood was beginning to pound. Her pulse was quickening to a four-beat rhythm. And her fury was greater than it had been since her time as Dark Lord. So, she did what she would have done all those years ago: she ripped through his mind, tearing away at the madness until she discovered what he had done with the acorn. All his memories, his madness, surrounded her, but she ignored it. As soon as she discovered where the acorn was, she ripped the knowledge from his mind and cast the spell that revealed it. Then, she left his mind, not bothering to patch it back up. Back in her own, she saw the hermit on his knees, shaking and broken. His eyes were clouded over, his mind unable to grasp anything any longer. She reached down and retrieved the acorn, and her anger dissipated enough for her to regret such a rash action. But, her pulse was still beating. Bah-dah-dah-dum. Bah-dah-dah-dum.
"Kill him, he won't survive long anyway," she commanded.
"What did you do to him?" Zevran asked in something between awe and horror.
"Just do it," she turned away from the broken mage.
Morrigan had shifted back into human form, and was staring at her curiously. Zevran, meanwhile, was trying to reconcile what he had just witnessed with his image of the Jedi. Finally, Sten sighed and, raising his sword, chopped off the hermit's head. The severed cranium rolled away, and blood colored the ground, soaking into the soil. Another death tallied up for her. Revan looked away in distaste, running a finger up and down the side of the large acorn.
They retraced their steps to where the Grand Oak was, luckily not encountering any more beasts or sylvans. Revan's head was pounding, and the armor was hot and stifling. She could tell that the curse was beginning to take its toll, and she couldn't help wondering how long she had left.
When they found the gigantic, moving tree, it leaned down, leaves rattling, and asked in its deep, singing voice, "My acorn is still gone, so I pray to thee…hast thou any news for me?"
"Yes, we found your acorn," Revan held out the artifact, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
"My joy soars to new heights indeed! I am reunited with my seed!" the oak exclaimed, reaching out with a branch and wrapping its twigs around the acorn like a wooden hand, then retracting to the behemoth's side. "As I promised, here it be. I hope its magic pleases thee. Keep this branch of mine with thee, and pass through the forest free," it extended a gnarled branch in the shape of a staff, glowing with magical energy. Morrigan took it, seeing the expression on Revan's face. "I wish thee well, my mortal friends. Thou brought my sadness to an end. May the sunlight find you, thy days be long, thy winters kind, and thy roots be strong."
The sylvan retreated into the deeper woods with its acorn, leaving the party alone. Morrigan examined the branch and, concluding that it would indeed dispel the barrier, sent out a magical pulse that would alert Wynne in the other party that they had found the solution. Knowing that it would take a while for the others to find them, Revan retreated to a nearby grassy knoll, trying to think of Carth and not how wasteful sitting there was. Carth. Not her impatience. Carth. Not how much she wanted to rip out a werewolf's throat, or dig out Witherfang's heart with her bare hands. Carth. But the thought of him was not enough to drown out her bloodlust.
She saw Zevran approaching through her closed eye, through the second sight, and almost snapped at him to leave her alone before she remembered that he was merely concerned for her welfare. He had braved her wrath in order to ascertain what was wrong with her. So, she let him approach.
He took a seat on the grass next to her and drew his knees to his chest. She could sense he was looking at her again.
"You know, there is a reason I accepted this mission in Ferelden, far away from home," Zevran looked away, "and it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows. Meeting you and Rose, after all, was quite an accident.
"My last mission before this one…did not end well. I think you should know what happened. Until that day I was cocky and arrogant—well, more so than I am now. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and bragged of my conquests often…both as an assassin and lover. One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise: a wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent. One of my…friends in the Crows, Taliesen, agreed to be a part of my team, as well as an elven lass named Rinna. She was…a marvel. Tough, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired. Rinna was special. I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me.
"When Taliesen revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and allowed Taliesen to kill her.
"Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and said that even if it were true, I didn't care. Taliesen cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows.
"When Taliesen and I finally assassinated the merchant, we found the true source of his information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all. I…wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, of our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to. He said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt. We needn't have bothered. The Crows knew what we had done. The master who disliked me told me so to my face. He said the Crows knew…and they didn't care. And one day, my turn would come.
"You asked, in Redcliffe, why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die. What better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens? I swore I would never speak of what happened, to anyone. But then, all this happened. And here I am. But you know what? I am glad I am here, because otherwise, I would never have met you, who remind me so much of her, and I wouldn't have a chance to redeem myself."
Zevran did not look at her after this. Revan observed his profile, her anger and impatience gone. He had told her his darkest secret in order to restore her humanity, something she could not imagine having the courage to do. A surge of understanding and compassion swelled in her. She knew his pain, the pain of killing one you loved. As she had killed Malak. As she had betrayed Carth. Revan rested her head on his shoulder, a silent gesture of empathy, of shared suffering. He put an arm around her in turn.
A few minutes later, Rose, Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne jogged into the clearing, sweating slightly from exertion. Revan and Zevran rose and joined Morrigan and Sten, who had kindly given her space to recover. Sten made eye contact with her when she approached and asked in Qunlat if she was better. She nodded the affirmative and whispered a thank you to him, receiving a tilt of the head in kind. Morrigan was explaining how the staff would allow them to pass through the barrier to Rose when Revan noticed the slight white tinge in her eyes and the almost imperceptible taint of the Fade in her blood. It seemed that the Jedi was not the only one to have been infected, but the taint seemed to be spreading slower in Rose than in Revan. She decided against announcing the fact, knowing that it was bad form to observe a fault in the commander. If something were to happen, Revan would deal with the girl before it got out of control. Assuming that Revan was still Revan then.
The party moved through the forest, following Wynne as she tracked the magical signature of the barrier. Wynne divulged, when Zevran persisted, that she had found one of her old apprentices whom she thought had been killed by Templars living as a lone Dalish mage in the depths of the woods. She smiled, and then said that, after all those years, he had forgiven her, and at last she had found peace. Of course, Zevran then had to ruin the moment with a comment about her bosom.
The barrier was definitely magical, but it had not been erected by a mage. It was a thing of pure magical energy, probably put there by Witherfang himself. Morrigan wielded the staff, and the barrier evaporated, revealing a passage into a large complex of ancient ruins. A group of werewolves guarded the path, the lead one with a reddish-golden coat, compared to the gray pelts of the others, and scars running across his face. He snarled at them, and Revan quickly drew her blades and prepared to leap into battle, the blood boiling at the sight of the foul creatures, only to find Rose's arm across her chest, holding her back.
"No, Revan," she said. "We met him before; he is intelligent. He says there is a dispute between the Dalish and werewolves. I think they are trying to return to their original forms."
"He is a beast!" Revan snarled in return. "A beast that has killed my people! Vermin that need to be exterminated!"
Rose looked at her in horror, and Sten grasped her arms from behind and pulled her back, restraining her as her pulse quickened and the sweat beaded on her forehead. Bah-dah-dah-dum. Bah-dah-dah-dum. Bah-dah-dah-dum. The drumming drowned out all rational thought, and all she could think of was how good it would feel to have the werewolves' blood dripping from her sword, soaking into her armor, painting her face. She could taste the iron, the warm liquid. Her hands quivered, and she had the sudden urge to rip off her stifling armor. She saw Zevran whisper something to Rose as she watched Revan strain against the Qunari. Then a look of pity crossed the young Warden's face before she returned to deal with the umber werewolf before them.
"The forest has not been vigilant enough," the werewolf spoke, approaching them. "Still you come. You are stronger than we could have anticipated. The Dalish chose well. But you do not belong here, outsider. Leave this place!"
"Please!" Rose pleaded. "I'm trying to help you!"
Revan let out a feral cry as the pounding increased, and the urge to attack built to a crescendo. She could feel Sten straining to retain her as her own strength was amplified not only by her manipulation of the Force, but by the curse spreading rampantly through her veins. The werewolf spared her a glance, and Revan could have sworn he grinned in amusement at her, serving only to cause her to fight more.
"You are sent by the treacherous Dalish to kill Witherfang!" he growled, eyes darting back to Revan. "I will not stand by and allow that to happen!"
"Why do you say that? You attacked them," Rose pointed out.
"And they deserved no less! Hrrrr. You are an intruder in our home! You come to kill, as all your kind do! We have learned this lesson well. Now, leave, or I will be forced to kill you all!"
Rose bravely stood her ground, and with a roar, the beast lunged, flanked by his pack mates. Revan could not control her bloodlust at his advance; flames began dancing around her skin, dancing as they swirled around her. Sten was forced to release her, and the flames grew to an inferno around her as she shot forward to confront the werewolves. She slammed into one of the flanking beasts, barreling it over. It cried in pain as her flames scorched its skin, burning away the hair and flesh. Revan didn't even bother with her swords; she crushed his throat with a surge of the Force. Then, turning to another of the werewolves, an arc of lightning shot from her palm, striking it in the chest, transferring all its life energy to Revan as she fed the fiery tempest. Rose was facing off with the golden werewolf, while the others were unsuccessfully struggling not to kill the werewolves, just to ward them off. Revan felt her fury at their weakness build, fueling the fires. A werewolf that had stumbled backward was caught in her flames and was incinerated. Meanwhile, Revan pulled a werewolf that was attacking Morrigan away with a tug of the Force into the same inferno. She was an unstoppable force of nature now, and these meager beasts could not stand in her way.
She was about to deal with the lead werewolf, the one with the ochre coat, when a white wolf wrapped in the branches of the forest leapt in her way, braving the flames and heat, resistant to both. It was a beast of pure magical energy, held in the world only by its physical shell. It snarled in warning at her, allowing the other werewolves to flee as it stalled Revan. The Jedi screamed in rage, but the look in the wolf's eyes—one of compassion, of concern, and of sympathy—halted her. The inferno, no longer supported by her anger, died down, leaving Revan feeling weak and in pain.
I am sorry, my daughter, the wolf spoke in her mind. You must understand that I have to protect my children, just as you must protect your own people. But there is much that you do not yet understand.
Revan could not look away, could not move, she could just stare at the wolf before her. This must be Witherfang. But, the voice in her head was not the violent, raving beast that Zathrian had described; it was the voice of a mother, of nature embodied in a physical form. The wolf abandoned its defensive pose, took one last glance at Revan and the rest of the party, and bounded away after the werewolves. The Jedi, hollow now after her expenditures, fell to her knees in the packed dirt. The others rushed over to her side.
"Dragonheart…" Rose laid a tentative hand on her shoulder.
"Keep going," Revan said emotionless. "Find the truth of the matter, bring peace to my people. I…I cannot continue with you. You must leave me behind; I am a danger to those around me."
The Warden opened her mouth to object, but they both knew it was true. Revan's condition was worsening by the minute; it was a matter of hours now before she would turn into a werewolf. And even then, with all her magic and her additional soul, she was not sure that she could be cured. It would be better if she sought her end in the deep forest. If she continued with the others, she not only posed a threat to them, but she would not be able to contain herself at the sight of another werewolf. Rose bowed her head in acceptance, causing Alistair to gasp.
"We can't just leave her here!" Zevran complained at seeing Rose's agreement.
"You have to," Revan insisted. "I will go into the forest, away from anything that I can hurt."
"I don't understand! Why are we leaving her here? What's going on, General?" Alistair mustered the wits to ask.
She managed to look the lad in the face. "I was bitten."
Understanding visibly crossed his face, and he looked away in grief. Rose squeezed her shoulder, and left to comfort Alistair. Zevran gave her a sad look, also squeezing her shoulder in a silent goodbye. Sten came and stood in front of her and offered her a hand up. She took it, and taking his other hand, used some of her remaining energy to heal the minor burns on his callused palms. When she released them, the Qunari looked down at his hands, his expression again inscrutable, before suddenly wrapping Revan in a brief bear hug. He quickly released her and walked away in embarrassment.
The others finished giving their goodbyes, and continued into the ruins with a subdued air. She was the first casualty in their quest, but she could tell that the others still had hope that she would be saved if they could defeat Witherfang. But standing there, the sweat pooling on her skin, she was doubtful. Shakily, she turned around and headed away from the ruins. However, after a few minutes of just walking, her body was wracked with pain, and she had to spend all her energy merely on forcing her feet to move. The Jedi wandered blindly through the forest, trying vainly to stay away from any creature that she could harm if she transformed. The pain was not all her own: after Witherfang had touched her mind, the presence remained. As she walked, the pain grew stronger, and she could feel the consciousness of the other werewolves. She could feel the pain of their shape, of their bloodlust, of their rejection by nature itself. But there was also a light, a ray of hope: a lady of the forest, Witherfang in a different form. The Lady, as their thoughts addressed her, gave them hope that the curse would be lifted. Lifted, as it were, by Zathrian. Suddenly, the pieces snapped into place, but Revan in her delirious state could barely comprehend its significance.
Zathrian had started the curse.
In a way, she felt betrayed. She had put her faith in the Keeper. Blindly, she had thought that one chosen to lead her people was as wise as a Jedi Master. The anger began again, the pain deadening all reason, leaving only a hollow feeling that her rage slowly filled. Betrayal. How could she have trusted him? She should have seen the warning signs: Mithra not divulging her identity, the gleam in his eye as Zathrian sent them on this mad quest, the feeling that he was using them, and Zevran's observation that not all was being spoken.
The thoughts fed her anger, but all her physical energy was draining from her limbs. She collapsed against a large, moss-covered oak. Revan wished that she could become that oak, impervious to pain and suffering, stoic, majestic, unyielding. The oak knew nothing of anger and betrayal, of lost love and guilt. It stood, impassively observing the world. With the last of her strength, she cursed the tree and all its apathy. Why should she, who had already suffered so much, suffer this pain as well? She closed her eye and tried to grasp her quickly-fading humanity. Feeling it slip, Revan drew her dagger and pressed it to her own throat. She would not live in pain and anger for the rest of her existence. The dagger shook in her hand, and the thought crossed her mind that she may not be able to commit suicide. She took a deep breath, preparing.
"So, I see the mighty Mi'harel has fallen," a voice mocked, interrupting her preparation of self-sacrifice.
Revan opened her eye and tilted her head to see the form of Zathrian standing over her, a smug grin plastered evilly on his tattooed face. His arms were crossed, and his posture triumphant.
"Zathrian," she all but spat. He laughed.
"It's a wonder that Marethari allowed a beast like you to become one of us," he sneered. "Of course, I recognized you the minute you walked into camp, from the scars across your face. She should have known that someone violent enough to kill a dragon could never understand us, people who once revered such beasts."
"You…know nothing…of me," Revan wheezed as her anger built and the pain crushed her chest.
Zathrian raised a brow. "Oh? I don't? I know more of your kind than you think. You pretend to be our friend, then when our backs are turned, you drive a knife between our shoulder blades."
Bah-dah-dah-dum.
"You come only to destroy what we have barely managed to scrape together. You care nothing for us."
Bah-dah-dah-dum. Bah-dah-dah-dum.
"Just like your people cared nothing about what they did to my children. Like they didn't care that they murdered my son, raped my daughter, and left her for dead."
Bah-dah-dah-dum. Bah-dah-dah-dum. Bah-dah-dah-dum.
"You have no honor, no concept of the suffering you have caused. You cannot conceive what we have been through. You have no idea what it is like, to lose everything, to be a slave, a fugitive on the run!"
Revan rose to her feet, ignoring the pain. Bah-dah-dah-dum. Bah-dah-dah-dum. Bah-dah-dah-dum. Bah-dah-dah-dum. She clenched her fist, and blood dripped from where her nails dug into her palm. Unconsciously, her anger took shape, swirling around her in dark clouds. This strange pain, which strengthened her power and emotion even as it drained her body.
"I have no idea?" Revan began softly, fearing that if she raised her voice any higher she would not be able to contain herself. "You know nothing of me, Zathrian. Nothing. For I have been a slave, a fugitive; I have seen things just as horrible as you, or any other Dalish. You know nothing.
"I was abandoned young, when I could barely form words. I was dropped by the door of a cottage, and the man and his wife took me in. But I was always mistreated by their children, never given enough to eat, made to sleep with the animals.
"They were slaves to a plantation owner, who worked them to the bone. When I could walk on my own, I was put in the fields, made to work from sunup to sundown. When I slowed, I was whipped. When I didn't pick enough, I was whipped. When the taskmaster was drunk or angry, I was whipped. My foster father often spoke of how, if one of the family was educated enough to earn a position in the mansion, the owner might give them their freedom, but he refused to teach me anything. And then, when I was five, the owner took a liking to me and forced me to be a servant in his mansion. My foster parents tried to use my new position in the mansion to secure their own freedom, but our owner was harsh, and he had them killed before me. I was forced to watch as he beheaded them with a vibrosword, followed by their children. 'Belligerence breeds belligerence,' my owner said. All I could do was watch.
"A few weeks later, he made the mistake of slapping me. On instinct, I used my power to slam him into the wall, and his neck broke. I was accused of murdering him, and I was forced to flee. I managed to make it to a city with a port, and smuggled myself, starving and dirty, into the storage of one of the ships. They discovered me at the next port when they realized some of their rations were missing, and they dragged me out, kicking and screaming, into the port. They tossed me around, debating what to do with me. They were pirates. You can imagine the options. I fell back on my power, trying to protect myself.
"That's when my teacher found me, my Master. She was on a mission in the area, and she felt my power. She swooped in, rescued me, and took me back with her to be trained. After that day, I freed as many slaves as I could in my travels.
"I know exactly what your people have gone through, Zathrian. I know, because I went through it too. And I'm sorry about your daughter and son. I truly am. But these werewolves…I have seen into their minds. You cursed them, Zathrian, so many centuries ago. Those that inflicted the crime are long since dead. And the pain…the horrible pain. Can you understand that? The constant agony of just existing?"
Zathrian regarded her, the smug grin gone. His eyes were not pitying, not compassionate, not understanding, but they seemed to recognize that she was not that different from the elves in his clan. He sighed and shook his head.
"What would you have me do, Mi'harel? You can also feel their anger, I suppose. I am still angry as well, even after all these centuries. Where both sides hate, there can be no resolution," he stated.
"They may still be angry, but they are not unwilling to cooperate. They just wish you to break the curse."
"I cannot," Zathrian repeated, "without the heart."
"Cannot, or will not?" Revan asked pointedly. Zathrian opened his mouth to respond, but he could not. "Here is what I propose: meet with the spirit you summoned so long ago, and see if there is some way to break the curse without bloodshed. Not for me, or the werewolves, but for your people."
Zathrian considered this. He began pacing, thinking of the other options, but they both knew there were none. Finally, the Keeper stopped pacing.
"All right, I will meet with it. If anything, it will allow me to extract the heart myself."
Revan teetered over to him, muttering, "Well, I'm going to make sure that you keep your word."
"Is that necessary?"
She shot him a withering look. "You betrayed me once, I won't let you have the opportunity to do so again. You better pray that I do not transform while we travel."
The Keeper grimaced, but did not protest further. They set off for the ruins, Zathrian knowing their exact location. Her pulse and anger abated a bit, and Revan wondered if he was using magic to slow the taint in her. When they reached the ruins, there were no beasts protecting it, but the occasional corpse left behind by Rose and the others as they had forced their way inside.
It was a massive complex, barely noticeable on the surface, but extensive underground. It reminded her of the spot Duncan had found Lyna, of the ruin with the Eluvian. The architecture was also similar, not entirely elven, but perhaps some hybrid of elven and human. They descended into the large central chamber, supported by columns several stories high, with dim sunlight filtering through the holes in the roof, through the vines and moss gathering, and the sprouts of gnarled trees that had attempted to root in the chamber. The stones under their feet were cracked, some having fallen away to reveal the dirt beneath. In the center of the room, at the bottom of the stairs, was a raised, circular platform, bordered on each side by various corridors leading to other parts of the ruin. And, from the right-hand corridor appeared Rose, flanked by Alistair and Zevran, followed by the rest. Revan and Zathrian were on the bottom few steps, Zathrian standing tall and proud, Revan sweating profusely and obviously fighting the pain that ebbed in her veins. Rose gave a start at seeing them.
"Ah, and here you are already," Zathrian greeted her coldly.
"What are you…" Rose looked between the Keeper and Revan, the words dying on her lips.
"Your fellow Grey Warden brought me here. I can tell you do not have the heart, so I wonder: why are you leaving the ruin?"
Rose glanced at the ailing Jedi before answering. "I've been sent to bring you back to the Lady of the Forest."
"Oh? Is that what the spirit calls herself now? And what does she want with me, if I might enquire?" Zathrian pretended like he did not already know.
The young Warden suspected as much. "What is it you think she wants?"
"To survive, I suspect. That is the common nature amongst all such creatures, the will to survive," he intoned. "You do understand that she actually is Witherfang?"
"We thought as much," Rose grumbled.
Zathrian smirked, then rambled in a scholarly fashion, "She is the powerful spirit of this ancient forest that I summoned long ago and bound in the body of a wolf. Her nature is that of the forest itself: beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast. She is the Lady and Witherfang both, two sides of a single being. The curse came first from her. Those she afflicted with it mirrored her own nature, becoming both savage beast as well as human."
"But they are regaining their minds," Alistair pointed out from beside her.
"Perhaps they are, perhaps they aren't. Remember, they attacked my clan, and they were the same savages then that they have ever been. They deserve to be wiped out and not defended. You did not see what they did to my son. To my daughter. And so many others," Zathrian hung his head, his pain finally showing.
"But it's your own people suffering now, as well as them," Wynne sagely said.
"And that is why I agreed to come here in the first place," he fumed. "I will talk with them, so long as you promise to safeguard me from harm."
Rose considered this. "I will, unless you attack first."
"Then let us see what the spirit has to say," the Keeper strode past Rose, down the corridor and the flight of steps that the others had come from. Sparing Revan a pained glance, Rose turned and rushed after Zathrian to make sure that he did not do something foolish. Alistair gave his mentor a pitying smile before following his love. However, Zevran and Sten rushed to her side, Morrigan following them slightly less enthused but just as concerned. Sten looped his arm around her waist and draped her arm over his broad shoulders, supporting her and alleviating some of the pain. They questioned her, made sure she was not in immediate risk of dying, fused over how they regretted leaving her behind, and finally, after her impatience began to show through, escorted her down to where the Lady of the Forest waited.
They walked in when Zathrian shouted, "Who they are has not changed from whom their ancestors were. Wild savages! Worthless dogs! Their twisted shape only mirrors their monstrous hearts!"
Upon a pedestal, bordered by green trees and bathed in a watery light, stood a lady with skin like leaves, clothed by branches. Her black hair hung straight, whispering like the wind when she moved. Her mind spoke in her head like the rustle of leaves, faint yet there. Beside her stood the golden werewolf and several other, grey beasts. They were snarling at Zathrian, but they were held in check by the command of the Lady.
"He will not help us, Lady! It is as I warned you! He is not here to talk!" the russet-gold wolf growled.
"No, I am here to talk," Zathrian contradicted, "though I see little point in it. We all know where this will lead. Your nature compels it, as does mine."
"It does not have to be that way," the Lady said. It was the same voice Revan had heard when Witherfang had spoken in her head. It echoed in her mind as she said the words. "There is room in your heart for compassion, Zathrian. Surely your retribution is spent."
"My retribution is eternal, spirit, as is my pain," he rebutted. "This is justice, no more."
"Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse? Have you told the mortals how it was created?"
Rose cleared her throat. "He said he summoned you and bound you to a wolf."
"And so he did," the spirit said, almost sadly. "Witherfang and I are bound as one being. But such powerful magic could not be accomplished without Zathrian's own blood. Your people believe you have rediscovered the immortality of their ancestors, Zathrian, yet that is not true. So long as the curse exists, so do you."
"No, that is not how it is!" he yelled in defiance.
"Of course blood magic is involved," Alistair mumbled. "I should learn to expect that."
"How far will you go for your revenge, Zathrian?" Leliana condescended.
Zathrian looked around him in fury. "I did it for my people! I did it for my son and my daughter! For them, for justice, I would do anything!"
"The curse would not end with Zathrian's death. His life, however, relies on its existence. And I believe that his death plays a part in its ending," the Lady announced to everyone.
"Then we kill him! We tear him apart now!" the tawny werewolf readied to attack.
Then Revan began to laugh. Everyone turned to look at her, even the supernatural spirit. But Revan was beyond pain now. The entire thing seemed silly and obvious. So she laughed. "Did you not listen to what she said?" Revan wheezed between giggles. "Killing him won't solve a damn thing. He has to freely give his life to end the curse."
The Keeper's face turned stormy. "So, that is what it comes down to? That is why you brought me here, Mi'harel? To kill myself, when even you could not?"
Revan burst into a renewed fit of laughter. "I was preparing to kill myself to protect my people, if it came to it. You have already damned them to the same fate as me."
The storm vanished, leaving only his indignant, guilty face that he tried to turn away. Even the werewolves seemed subdued.
"So, the question becomes this: will you continue on your path for revenge," Revan began, all laughter suddenly gone, "and let your clan, your people, suffer like I am, or will you show mercy?"
The Keeper looked at her in guilt. His anger had vanished with her stern reminder of his duties to the Dalish. "I have…lived too long. This hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root. It has consumed my soul. What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?"
The spirit regarded Revan for another moment before turning her unnerving gaze back to Zathrian. "You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life. Yet of all things I desire nothing more than an end. I beg you, maker, put an end to me. We beg you, show mercy."
The werewolves purred in agreement, a sound that was both haunting and saddening. Zathrian lowered his head, considering. She could see him weighing whether his justice was worth more than his people. But, she already knew what his answer would be, what any Keeper's answer would be. At long last, he sighed. "You shame me, spirit. I am an old man, alive long past his time. I…I think it is time. Let us put an end to it."
The Keeper approached Revan, a strange expression on his face. He removed a necklace from around his neck, a metallic shard hung from a leather thong, and handed it to her. "As you make this request of me, I make one of you: give this to Lanaya. She will know what it means."
Revan nodded her assent. Zathrian gave her a small, sad smile, and ascended the pedestal to his fate. He summoned his power, a flurry that surrounded him. He prepared the area for the release of the magic. And then, he slammed his staff on the ground. The magic within him was released, and he crumpled to the ground, his life released with his power and his curse. The Lady looked on, surrounded by the werewolves that loved her, who reached out and touched her before she left. Suddenly, she was consumed in a bright yellow flame, and a white burst of magical light followed, blinding everyone. When the light dispersed, however, the werewolves were no longer beasts, but humans. Their eyes still glinted a silvery-yellow, like they had when bestial, but they were human.
The humans looked at their hands, their feet, touched each other's faces and hair, marveling at their new bodies. Meanwhile, Revan's head began to clear; no longer was the insistent drumming pounding away at her skull, and her body cooled back to its normal temperature, and strength returned to her limbs. She felt weary, as if she could sleep for a week. And there, Revan vowed that she would never be ruled by anger again; her actions had been far too close to those she had taken as a Sith Lord for her comfort.
The human that had been the tawny werewolf approached Rose and gave a sort of awkward half-bow.
"It's…over," the man said, testing out his new voice. "She's gone, and…we're human. I can scarcely believe it."
Rose smiled at him, studiously ignoring the body of the Keeper lying on the ground. "What are you going to do now?"
He shrugged. "We'll leave the forest, I suppose. Find other humans, see what's out there for us. It should be quite interesting, don't you think? Thank you. We…we'll never forget you."
Turning away, he rounded up all the other new humans and led them out on their new exodus into a new world. Rose watched them go with a smile upon her face.